Ringer 1.09 – Shut Up and Eat Your Bologna

Coffee chains, take note: there are so many meaningful coffee drinking scenes on this show! Get in on this!

Romance is in the air as Bridget!Siobhan and Andrew make out like a couple of teenagers. We wait, breathless, trying to learn if this is code signifying they have already Done It despite her not really being the real Siobhan and supposedly pulling all of this identity-stealing temporarily, or if it is code that they will soon Do It, showing us the sexy dishonest preliminaries to even sexier deception and lies (and, well, sex)?

Andrew offers to take her away to a world-class vacation spot with a beach, so they can get away from it all, bow chicka wow wow, and she suggests Fort Lauderdale. Andrew laughs a hearty ironic laugh, because presumably that’s her little crack at where the plebes go when they want sun. Nope, he’s taking her to Turks and Caicos, baby! Bridget tries not to cross her eyes while she visualizes where the hell Turks and Caicos is. I swear, if she wants to keep this up she’s going to have to do some online courses in Socialite Stuff.

Hey, it’s Siobhan’s wedding gown that Juliet trashed a few eps back, all repaired and good as new! Andrew’s attempts to help Bridget!Siobhan put it away are thwarted by her need to see, gosh, where did she stash that gun in the closet?

Flashback time, flashback time! We’re in Wyoming again, six weeks ago, and it seems like Bridget is knocking out Jimmy to take his gun and skedaddle — but WHAT IS THIS? Turns out Jimmy was the one telling Bridget to scurry away from Bodaway’s Reservation Crime Boss territory (so running wasn’t her idea) and even indirectly leads her to go to Siobhan for help, by prompting her to go to family (so going to Siobhan wasn’t her first impulse). So was Jimmy on Siobhan’s payroll? I don’t have time to ponder the complicated reach of Siobhan’s dastardly powers and possible crime boss connections, though, because Bridget refuses the gun. Huh. So how’d she — oh, I see, Jimmy dropped it into her duffel bag. That seems safe. Good job, Jimmy.

So now Bridget’s got a gun on her hands she never wanted in the first place, and she decides Charlie the lying liar who lies is just the one to help her with this little problem. Charlie can take care of it, but he tells Bridget he’s got to get off the phone, because he’s at the public library right now. Hey, that branch of the library oddly looks like a deserted apartment with a padlocked door, leading to a basement where someone is tied up.

My momentary fear that it’s Malcolm that Charlie’s hiding down there is assuaged and every wish I’ve had for Gemma’s return is answered when we see it is in fact Gemma Butler, mother of twins, architect extraordinaire, and wife of terrible novelist puffy!Andrew, tied up and blindfolded and tape-gagged in the basement, yay! Er, yay not for her being tied up and all that, but for being alive. And feisty! Charlie’s obviously had it with her feistiness, because he says before he takes the duct tape off her mouth (yikes), she isn’t going to scream or cry: “You are going to shut up and eat your bologna.” Okay. If it wasn’t bad enough being trapped in a basement with a handsome con-man, now she has to eat meat-by-product?

Malcolm’s at the NA meeting, saying how he couldn’t have kept clean for six days without Charlie. It’s great that Charlie has helped his path to sobriety. You know, while he was knocking out women and then hiding them in basements.

Bridget, who has been eavesdropping on this heartwarming testimonial from the hallway because NONE of these NA meetings we’ve witnessed have any sort of privacy or boundary standards, hands the gun off to Charlie when the meeting’s finished. Hot potato, hot potato! We see a quick flashback of her at Siobhan’s place in the Hamptons, finding the gun Jimmy stashed in her duffel bag and making a great, “Wha-huuuhhhh?” face. Still in that scene, Siobhan tells her to “get some rest, big plans tomorrow,” which is awesomely diabolical now that we know what those plans were. Rest up, so I can fake my death, trick you into taking over my life, and then kill you good, sis!

Next scene, and here is a twist I haven’t expected! It’s THE TWINS! Gemma and Henry’s twins of whom we’ve heard numerous mentions but had zero sightings of are really for real! That’s right, folks, they were not a ploy made up by the writers and then dropped randomly when it became inconvenient to slot in toddler actors; they’re red-headed like Gemma and totally adorable and about to break one of Andrew’s no-doubt very expensive tchotchkes at the offices of Martin and Charles.

Henry’s at Andrew’s offices to sign paperwork, and it must be the nanny’s day off if he’s dragging the kiddoes around with him. Oh, I guess their grandparents were watching them, but Gemma’s father has fallen ill with all the stress of Gemma’s disappearance. Remember, the rich one that Olivia wanted to pounce on? Gee, I hope Henry didn’t fire the nanny, because the way things have been up until now with the hipster lesbian nanny basically raising them, those twins must not have ANY IDEA who any of these other adults are.

Cue yet another coffee shop scene (we should really start a coffee-drinking game for this show), as Bridget and Malcolm celebrate him being off the junk. Malcolm doesn’t think Bridget should have handed her piece over to Charlie; she needs some protection from all those mobsters and random hit-men out to get her, and hey, being jittery about faking your identity and being on the run from a killer, that makes her a good candidate for holding on to a gun! But she isn’t certain she should hold onto it, because she feels like it would link her back to Bridget (hello, Bridget, you are Bridget, remember?) .

Plus Bridget can’t leave because Andrew is just now starting to trust her. In a make-out-y way. “You’re pretending to be his dead wife. How can there be any trust in that?” Malcolm asks, being a total spoil sport and hater of hot kissing scenes. Oh, right, it’s more that Bridget is trying to find out who’s trying to kill her sister! Not at all because of the lip-locking and exciting beach getaway plans. Nope.

Bridget decides to actually get back on that search for Siobhan’s secrets (we’d gotten a teensy bit off track there, huh, Bridge?), and finds some pills with the prescribing doctor’s name on them. Soon Bridget is at the office, talking to the awesomely dressed and gorgeous Dr. Annabelle Morris, who starts by asking, “Why are you calling yourself Siobhan Martin?” Another great moment for Bridget to do her “Wha-huuuhhhh?” face!

Hey now, it turns out that Siobhan used her Cora Ferrel name to make her psych appointments, on account of the secrecy. And Bridget guesses the name right, because whatsis-whosis-Shizzitini guy called her Cora when he accused her of having an affair with him or something. START PUTTING THINGS TOGETHER, BRIDGET! I guess she just assumed Siobhan was sleeping around with more people than Henry? But that’s wrong, because Siobhan totally had a type which that Shizzitini man did not fit — that being writer-ly and puffy.

Bridget!Siobhan tells the therapist, oh, not much is up, except how things are better with Andrew, she broke up with Henry, and Juliet doesn’t hate her anymore. “You completely transformed your life and you did it all outside of treatment, which begs the question, why come back now?” I know, tell her about your fake!baby and fake!miscarriage, Bridget!Siobhan! But I guess that would be too easy of an excuse, and we all know Bridget likes to do things the hard way, so she says, “I don’t know,” like she’s new here or something. “Something must have felt different this morning,” the therapist urges her, and Bridget flashes back to her hot make-out session with Andrew and OH HO, I bet something FELT DIFFERENT, huh, Bridget? (Pee Ess, I’m glad you all appreciate my subtlety *tosses hair*).

“Oh my god, I”m falling in love with Andrew!” Bridget!Siobhan realizes, quickly adding, “All over again,” Haha! Well, we can see why, as Andrew is making vacation plans with her his priority, frowny-facing Olivia when she says now is the time to pounce on Gemma’s rich daddy, and getting ready to leave the office so he can have lunch “with my wife”. Oh, and even though in every other episode we’ve heard nothing but incredible returns and huge accounts for Martin and Charles, Olivia wants to up the ante on Gemma’s pop because, “Two of the six investors we landed next month have pulled out.” Maybe those investors yanked their cash because they smelled dead hit-man in that trunk at the investor courting party (remember that?).

Bridget goes on about Andrew, saying that he seems so surprised and pleased she’s making him happy, and, “I don’t want it to end. I want to keep surprising him.” When the therapist finally makes her leave, Siobhan asks about those antidepressants and if the therapist is sure she doesn’t need them. “You know I didn’t prescribe those antidepressants for depression,” the therapist corrects, and well, that’s interesting.

Poor Malcolm is just taking it one day at a time (one day at a time! Bah-bah-dah-baaah!), splashing water on his face while Charlie checks on him by knocking (because regular dudes really check on each other in bathrooms). Malcolm spots mouthwash, and this is actually a nice little turn the show is doing on the difficulties for addicts, because he takes it immediately to Charlie because it has, duh, alcohol in it. Which begs the question, why does Charlie have that stuff around if he’s an addict? Also, who feels this proves Charlie must have really gnarly breath? *raises hand* Because he’s rotten on the inside, amirite?

Malcolm calls Bridget when Charlie’s gone to tell her he’s getting suspicious, because Charlie only has four pairs of socks. Maybe he sends his laundry out? This is NYC. But “something is not right here,” Malcolm insists, because the batteries in the remote are still shrink-wrapped. That does seem more odd, because Charlie, aside from his kidnapping and assaulting ways, seems like the sort of do-nothing dude to kick back in front of the television, like, all the time.

Continuing the theme of not being so trusting of authority figures and sneaking through their stuff, Bridget decides this is an awesome time to break into Siobhan’s therapist’s office and snoop around for clues about Siobhan. Dr. Morris catches her in the act, and Bridget says she’s only breaking in and committing a thousand breaches of the client-therapist contract because she wanted more time. What, Bridget, you couldn’t have said you went back because you forgot your scarf or something? Would have made you seem waaayyy less like a creeper.

Dr. Morris escorts her down to the lobby, saying she’ll have to reassess if they can continue therapy together. Bridget nods gravely then skips around the corner to read the record of Siobhan’s last-session she just stole. Guess what, that antidepressant was for paranoia, and there’s a note Siobhan felt there was some answer to what she was searching in Gramercy Cathedral (whut?).

Andrew and Bridget!Siobhan leave for lunch, making Olivia look aggravated and presumably begin hatching nefarious plots. At the restaurant Andrew warily asks Bridget!Siobhan, “What if doing the right thing cost us everything?” in one of those hypothetical, “Hey, I lost major clients and am too noble to hit up the dad of our possible-dead friend for his savings, so what if the worst came true and we had to vacation in Fort Lauderdale after all?” sorts of ways. She nods, and he’s so, so in love with her, and she with him, and it’s really touching (you know, if it weren’t for the deceit and lies and sham).

Malcolm apologies to Charlie for freaking out about the mouthwash, trying to allay any suspicion and Scope out (Haha!) his reaction. When Charlie goes to take a shower, Malcolm (whilst waiting the appropriate amount of time to knock on the bathroom door and ask Charlie if he’s all right in there, because apparently that’s what dudes do), goes through Charlie’s wallet, which has almost nothing in it, except for a key to an apartment at 1600 Colonial Road with the name John on it.

As Bridget heads to the church, we see Malcolm opening the mailbox, I guess with the key from the wallet, and finds the name on the mail matches the one on the key fob.

Once inside the “cathedral”, Bridget finds it is in fact a hip-hop-happening bar and funky people hang-out place. And guess who is bending elbows with the other hipsters? Why, it’s Charlie, drinking all kinds of likker, and being called “John” by the bartender. She grills some passing dude about that man at the bar, and hears, “He’s here a lot, he’s always drinking whiskey, he’s always on his cell.” And he never notices you, right, random guy? If only he would get off his cell, and see who has been right in front of him the entire time! D:

At the bar, Charlie gets a call from The Real Siobhan, and says triumphantly he’s got Bridget’s gun! But Siobhan is so not impressed, because “the only reason she had that gun in the first place was because the cop you hired gave it to her.” Ah, so it was Charlie that bought out Jimmy. So much corruption. And lying. And gun-hiding.

Back at Martin and Charles, Andrew nobly refuses to go after Gemma’s dad’s gazillions, because “I have other things to live for than our bottom line.” Siobhan!, Olivia guesses with a curled-fists clenched-teeth kind of grimace. “I guess I want to be the man she thinks I am,” Andrew goes on dreamily. Olivia goes through files when he’s gone, licking her finger to turn the page; ew, other people have to touch that file, Olivia! And then she rips up some page that Henry signed. Fiendish plans are afoot!

Malcolm and Bridget share their Charlie-is-John-and-also-possibly-a-scary-killer fears back at the apartment. Maybe Charlie was the one after Siobhan, but “he’s had every chance to hurt me but he hasn’t,” Bridget says. Malcolm goes to check out Charlie’s other address, and Bridget goes to do that Siobhan-imitating voodoo that she does so, so well.

It’s a cozy little scene of paperwork and sympathy as Henry and Olivia meet at his place so he can again sign the paper he already signed. The vibe in the room seems all dimly-lit and laden with getting-to-know-you curiosity, and hey, is Olivia going to seduce Henry? Because that would produce some interesting results (hint: Olivia would eat Henry alive). Henry says he wants her to keep talking about her work frustrations, because it’s the first adult conversation he’s had all day, and Olivia presses him to find out if he knows why everything changed between Andrew and Bridget!Siobhan.

But when Henry goes to check on the crying twins (maybe the funky nanny is off checking out that cool new wine bar in Fort Greene with her girlfriend), Olivia snatches up his cell phone (everyone is ALWAYS leaving their cell phones unattended and unlocked these days). You’d think she’s just looking for Gemma’s dad’s private number, but nope, she finds a picture of Henry with Siobhan, and emails it to herself. And that pic didn’t look like it especially implicated anything to me, but Olivia will take anything she can grab at this point.

When Henry returns, Olivia is ready to leave, saying, “I got what I came for.” Henry looks vaguely confused that she’s waltzing out of their intimate little chat, because he’s missed every generic signal and convention that says Olivia is up to some nasty subterfuge and has obviously stolen information she needs to hightail away with. But I can’t blame puffy!Henry for not reading into the narrative Olivia’s actions have painted. IT’S NOT LIKE HE’S A WRITER OR ANYTHING!

Meanwhile, there’s a nice little scene with Bridget detaining Charlie at YET ANOTHER coffee shop, threading together close-ups of Charlie’s lying mouth and fraud-y eyes while he’s talking and Bridget is watching him mistrustfully, not listening to anything he actually says. She wants to know why he’s done all this stuff for her when he doesn’t even know her. “Just a good guy, I guess,” he says, and at least Bridget gets convention here because she gives him the squinty eyes of suspicion at that one.

Malcolm breaks into Charlie’s other place — dude, he just kicked the stuff six days ago, and already he’s a better investigator and delver into all things mysterious than our pal Bridget! For extra-creepy atmosphere, he uses a flashlight to focus on random things at the apartment (hey, light switch, right over there on the wall). Then he notices a set of keys. Keys!

While Malcolm pages through mail and checks out the joint, having forgotten about his suspicious key finding, we spot Gemma in the basement, panting fearfully behind her duct tape.

Cut to Bridget asking for her gun back. Charlie pushes her to say why, and she gives him a meaningful look and says, “I don’t feel safe anymore.” Way to go there, Bridget. Just tip him off that you’re onto him, whydon’tcha?

Malcolm spots the door to the basement, and sees the padlock. You know what would open that padlock, Malcolm? Keys. Keys! Because the producers like to rile me and hear me shout, “Go, Malcolm, go!” they go to commercial so I can shriek in aggravation, and lead back in with boring old Charlie and Bridget. Charlie can’t give the gun to her right away, you understand. It’s with a guy. One of those guys. Of the “I know a guy who can dot dot dot,” fame. He gets up to leave, and she keeps trying to stall him, but he says he’s got somewhere to be (a-torturin’, and a-bologna-sandwich-a-makin’!). Bridget snaps out her phone to text Malcolm a warning.

Back to the dank basement, and okay, this is why I’ve missed Gemma. She hasn’t had ONE LINE in this entire episode, and even tied up and shot from the back in a dark room, she has so much presence that I’m cheering for her to thwart the bad guys. She’s such a fighter, too, trying to make noise in the basement so whoever is there will hear her! *loves Gemma*

“He’s coming, get out of there,” the text to Malcolm reads, but he’s THISCLOSE to rescuing Gemma, good gravy, not NOW, Bridget! When Malcolm puts the keys back, he sees a touch phone. Could it be…Gemma’s??? Next we spot Gemma on the floor in her tied-up state, yikes! And whoops, Charlie is outside on his phone, saying, “Siobhan, she’s on to me.” DDDDDDD:

We’ve got another week off (boo!) then the mid-season finale (yay for drama, but boo for yet another Ringer break). Okay, I don’t like the show’s upcoming hiatus one bit, but I’ll deal with it on one condition. I want Gemma rescued by next ep’s end, Ringer Writers! *stern face*

I was so amazed to see the twins, I shouted out loud while I was watching, surprising my housemate no end.

Personal amusement: those twins look like the three-or-four-year-old version of the seven-year-old twins I invented as Matt Devlin (L&O:UK)’s nephews, in a story I wrote making him NOT DEAD (really, writers have got to stop killing Jamie Bamber). This is relevant to Ringer in that, in a nod to the Horatio Hornblower movies, my mental casting for the boyfriend I gave Matt (what? Of course there’s a boyfriend offscreen, yes, I have slashgoggles with a strong prescription, but I can point you at the dark-planet evidence for him, no really) is of course Ioan Gruffudd, and, having decided BEFORE RINGER STARTED that the boyfriend was in banking, and being totally lazy about names, I just called him Andrew Martin. So, seeing little redheaded boy twins gave me a good laugh.

Definitely going “awwww”over doting!Andrew. Even though it’s going to be all kinds of disaster when the Reveal happens.

I hope they go on their island vacation next episode and I get my Shirtless Ioan, that’s all I’m sayin’.

Janey Ford

Serendipity indeed!

Very good point — island holidays are sure to bring lots of Andrew skin on display. Let us cross our fingers!

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